


Moomin Mycroft

by Radar_Girl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Books, Childhood, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mocking Mycroft, Molly reading to Sherlock, Moomins, One Shot, Sherlolly - Freeform, Short & Sweet, Sick Sherlock, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radar_Girl/pseuds/Radar_Girl
Summary: Sherlock is sick. Molly finds his old copy of The Moomins and the Great Flood.Inside she finds a picture Sherlock drew aged 5 of Mycroft as a Moomin.Includes picture of Moomin-Mycroft!





	Moomin Mycroft

 

 

“Go home, Molly. I'm fine on my own.”

 

Molly would've liked to have believed Sherlock's words, but she couldn't. He sounded terrible for one thing, his voice rasping and croaky, and then there was the frequent coughing. Great hacking, wheezing coughs that shook his whole body. He looked awful too. His skin was as white as the bed sheets and his eyes were red-rimmed. Even if John hadn't specifically asked her to look in on him she would have done of her own intuitive. There was no way she was going to abandon her boyfriend at the first sign of illness.

 

“No, you're not. I don't mind waiting until John comes.”

 

Sherlock coughed loudly.

 

“It's just the flu,” he croaked. “And I don't want to pass it onto you. I'll be fine.”

 

Molly raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, John is worried that it might be turning into something much more nasty. Bronchtitis or pneumonia. I'm inclined to agree. I've seen corpses more healthy than you.”

 

“Y-you always s-say that,” Sherlock mumbled sadly.

 

He shuffled down deeper into the bed, pulling the sheets over his thin shoulders. Molly could see him shivering. She had given him paracetamol as soon as she had arrived, but it hadn't kicked in yet. She sat on the side of the bed and gently brushed the damp curls out of his eyes before giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

 

It wasn't just his sickness which was causing Sherlock's friends to worry. Over the past couple of weeks, Sherlock had been low in mood. Grouchier than usual and not as energetic. They were all concerned that he was experiencing cravings again. So, whether Sherlock liked it or not they were going to keep a closer eye on him. Molly wanted to do everything she could to help her boyfriend get back on his feet again. She didn't like see him unhappy.

 

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I just wish that you would take better care of yourself.”

 

She ran her fingers through his hair until he seemed to have dozed off. Then she carefully got off the bed and began to browse his books when one in particular caught her eye.

 

“You like the Moomins?” she asked in disbelief. She kept her voice low just in case he had gone to sleep.

 

She saw a minute shake of his head.

 

“Look at how old it is,” he muttered into his pillow.

 

Molly turned the book over in her hands. It was worn and battered with a cracked spine and curled-up pages.

 

“Oh, it's a relic of your childhood, right? I used to like them too.”

 

Sherlock didn't answer her, but drew his knees up to his chest, groaning. It made Molly hope that John would show up earlier than expected.

 

She hesitated before saying, “I can read it to you if you like... it'll pass the time...”

 

Sherlock twisted around his bed, trying to find a comfortable position for his aching body, before finally murmuring, “Do what you like.”

 

Molly took that as a yes. She sat herself back down next to Sherlock and opened the book.

 

“It must have been late in the afternoon one day at the end of August when Moomintroll and his mother arrived at the deepest part of the green forest.”

 

* * *

 

 

“In those days they lived together with the house-trolls in people's houses, mostly behind their tall stoves. “Some of us still live there now, I'm sure,” said Moominmamma. “But, only where people still have stoves, I mean. We're not happy with central heating.”'

 

Molly turned the page and a tattered piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She picked it up, turned it over and smiled. She glanced quickly at Sherlock to see if he was still awake, but it was a little hard to tell. His eyes were closed, but he looked a little too uncomfortable to be sleeping.

 

She looked again at the scuffed paper. It had a child's drawing scrawled over it, one of what Molly assumed was an angry looking Moomin. It held a piece of cake in one hand and an umbrella in the other, and was scowling.

                                                              

“Moominmycroft,” she heard Sherlock say sleepily. He still looked feverish, but was a little more at ease now.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“It's Mycroft as a Moomin,” Sherlock rasped. His eyes slipped closed again. “I was five.”

 

“Obviously. It's cute.”

 

Molly carefully tucked the picture back in-between the pages and continued reading.

 

About half an hour later John arrived, having finished his shift at the clinic. When Molly had heard his footsteps coming up the stairs she had placed the book back in it's place, knowing that Sherlock might feel embarrassed if John found out that Molly had been reading a children's story to him. However, she had made a mental note of where she had read to, just in case Sherlock wanted her to finish it another day.

 

* * *

 

_AN: The Moomins and the Great Flood belong to Tove Jansson, 1945._

_Thank you for reading!_

 


End file.
